


In a Sea of Strangers I Can't Find Me Anymore

by thunderstormsablaze



Category: All Elite Wrestling
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drunken Kissing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Song fic, identity crisis, mjf needs therapy, poor wardlow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29632644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderstormsablaze/pseuds/thunderstormsablaze
Summary: Who is he. Really, who is he. Is he destined to float around in personality forever without a clear direction? Why can't he be normal, someone who has a sense of belonging.
Relationships: Maxwell Jacob Friedman/Wardlow
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	In a Sea of Strangers I Can't Find Me Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> More song fics! This one's "Life of the Party" by All Time Low.

_ All these people are passed out  
_ _ On the floor in my hotel room  
_ _ I don't know half of them  
_ _ But they all wanna know me _

Music blaring, drinks flowing, crowds of people shoved into every available space. It shouldn't feel as lonely as it does. MJF stands on the outside, doing his job as host and conversing with everyone, getting to know them. But he doesn't know them. He barely remembers the first few guests' names, and all the faces blur together. A drink in hand so he doesn't look out of place, yet barely any was drunk from it. 

Person after person approaches him, complimenting him, pretending like they're his best friend. But MJFs only friend wasn't around, parties not really his scene. It shouldn't bother him as much as it does. Because at least then he knew there would be a safe haven, one person not trying to get his money, his status, his favor. So he's left to the wolves, to fend for himself against the people hungry for power and status. Always on guard, always trying to not let slip too much. Nor to favor one person over another, that would end in bloodshed. 

_ And it's 4 in the morning  
_ _ I'm just trying to fix myself  
_ _ What the hell did I do?  
_ _ 'm the life of the party _

Finally, a moment's peace. MJF can retreat to somewhere safer, with less prying eyes and people to please. He slips out onto the balcony, instantly his wide grin falling. The arrogant glint in his eyes, chest puffed out with confidence, gone. Leaving behind a bareness he hasn't had in ages, not since figuring out who MJF was. But now, MJF realizes that was a huge mistake. Because it's been years since he was Max, years since the façade of MJF was only a nugget of a thought, since he was himself.

It shouldn't bother him as much as it does, he shouldn't be this stressed over it. He should accept what he has, go back inside to be treated like a hero. That's what he always wanted, fame, the flashing lights, people clinging to his every word. But he didn't expect it to be so hard. To take away so much of who he was. Before, he knew what he wanted, knew who he could trust, knew how to enjoy life and be himself. Yet that changed, now he doesn't know who he is underneath MJF. He doesn't know who Max is, the anxious Jewish kid trying to make a life for himself. That person's deep inside him, hidden away into the back of his soul, and MJF doesn't know how to get him out again. Not even with no one around to take advantage of him. 

_ Somewhere in between  
_ _ Who I used to be  
_ _ And who I'll be tomorrow  
_ _ When the champagne blows my mind _

MJF- no Max- no MJF- whoever it is leans on the railing, looking up at the stars above. They don't have this conflict, trying to see where they stop and where they start. They just have one job, glow, light up the sky night after night. It must be so nice, knowing purpose, knowing identity. MJF doesn't know that anymore, he doesn't have anything to remind him. He's let MJF and Max overlap too much, now there's nothing to distinguish them. 

He can barely remember who he was when he was growing up, much less how to act like him. It hurts, it really does. How can someone lose themselves so quickly, barely three years into knowing who MJF is he lost Max. Sometimes he misses Max, okay a lot of the time he misses Max. The man who could go with the flow, who found enjoyment in small things, who wasn't always trying to get people to like him. Things were so much easier as Max, sure the anxiety was a bitch, but he could manage it. At least then he knew who he was. 

_ Thrills don't come for free  
_ _ The price you pay for dreams  
_ _ In a sea of strangers  
_ _ I can't find me anymore _

A memory surfaces, his first ever wrestling match. Max was so nervous, but Max sank into MJF and all the worry washed away. Channeled into something else, into an arrogance he never felt before. MJF was on top of the world, and he had to prove it to other people. Show them they could never be like him, he was better than them, and they should know it. It was exhilarating, being able to be someone he never was before. 

But with that joy came a price, everyone booed him. Sure, that was the point, and MJF thrived off that. Yet Max hated it. Max wanted everyone to like him, wanted people to think he was cool and nice and not this mean… other thing. Unfortunately people never responded like that, no matter what they booed MJF, leaving Max scrambling backstage for something else. Maybe that's when he started hiding behind MJF more and more until Max was nowhere to be seen. 

_ I keep thinking about you  
_ _ How you level me out sometimes  
_ _ When I'm out of my head  
_ _ And I don't wanna face it _

All too soon the peace is broken and MJF has to go back inside. He keeps talking to people, playing with them, trying to protect himself from people only wanting him for the money. Until it all becomes too much. Too many people, too loud, too long of holding himself together. Barely buzzed, he was careful to not drink too much, but needing something to distract him, keep him from falling apart. Luckily, he knows where to find that, and he hopes it'll be enough.

MJF finds himself standing outside another hotel room, hesitating before knocking on the door. Quiet shuffling before it cracks open, he hopes he isn't bothering his friend inside. He gets herded in and drawn into a large pair of arms, pressed against a chest radiating warmth and comfort. It's paradise, and Max lets himself melt into it. A few moments pass, just savoring the feeling, before he turns and lets loose the sobs into Wardlow's chest. 

_ You said it's all for a reason  
_ _ But what the fuck is the reason now?  
_ _ Coming down, bring me back  
_ _ I'm the life of the party _

Wardlow lets him sob for a few minutes, to get it out of his system. Then, Max spills everything, his identity crisis, how he's falling apart without anything to hold him in place. Wardlow frowns, he doesn't know what to do. Most of the time, it's easy to take care of Max, all he has to do is be there for him to lean on, remind him to eat and drink and sleep, or bust some heads until the problems go away. But this, this is a whole other demon he can't tackle no matter how much he wants to make it go away.

All he can do is try and hold him together with his arms, even though he knows that's not going to work. He tries to reassure the smaller man, he really does. Telling him he's not an asshole, not someone who exists solely to be hated. That deep down Max is under MJF and he just needs to find himself again, figure out how to keep them separate. How to play a character without it consuming him. But he doesn't know what goes in one ear and out the other, he thinks most of it. 

_ Somewhere in between  
_ _ Who I used to be  
_ _ And who I'll be tomorrow  
_ _ When the champagne blows my mind _

Max nods and smiles faintly, wiping away his tears on Wardlow's shirt and lingering in his arms for a moment longer than normal. He hopes the feeling of Wardlow is enough to remind him who Max is as he waves goodbye, walking out of the room while pulling on MJF once more. He returns to the party, it's winding down by this point but not quick enough. Not enough for him to remember the feeling of Max, and as everyone clears out, so does Max, going back to his hiding place deep in his soul. 

_ Thrills don't come for free  
_ _ The price you pay for dreams  
_ _ In a sea of strangers  
_ _ I can't find me anymore _

The next night, there's another knock on Wardlow's door. The big man opens it and a whirlwind walks in, pacing around and flailing his arms and on the verge of tears. MJF hates it, he shouldn't be this weak, this reliant on someone else. But he can't help it, this is the only place he feels he matters. Where no one's trying to manipulate him, where he can be himself. Whoever that is anymore. All he really knows for sure now is he's falling in love with his best friend, and neither MJF nor Max can stop it. 

MJF keeps talking, frantically trying to get everything he's thinking out, to get Wardlow to understand. Oh to have such a strong sense of self, he wishes he was like the man he was in love with, so sure of everything he did. Because he deserves someone like that, not someone who's just floating in a puddle of personality, only going where the wind takes him. But soon Wardlow wraps himself around the smaller man again, and all his worries drain away, leaving only care and affection within him. 

_ Now it's 4 in the morning  
_ _ And I'm trying to fix myself  
_ _ What the hell did I do?  
_ _ I'm the life of the party _

Another night another party another session of trying to find himself. The last night helped, it really did, gave him some grounds to think on. But he needs this, needs the chaos and to sink into a role he knows. It may not be a good role, it may not be one he's comfortable in. Yet it's something he can do without much conflict, and MJF needs that stability. Again all the faces come together, melding into one along with the names of whoever he invited and whoever they brought along. It doesn't leave him any time to question who he is anymore. 

_ It's so hard to imagine  
_ _ Who I'd be if I walked away  
_ _ Never know what it's like  
_ _ To be the life of the party _

MJF controls the crowd subtly, none of the partygoers aware enough to tell, yet he has total control. Over everything but himself. Maybe that's why MJF craves power, loves manipulation, because then he can control something again. He makes a promise to himself, he needs to know if Max is still there, under the layers. If Max can think enough to live his life away from the spotlight. So MJF folds into Max, waiting for another person to talk to him.

It's a stranger who approaches him, someone Max doesn't know. Maybe that's why he clams up, maybe it's the anxiety coming back full force. But Max can't answer even the simple question of what his name is. Because he doesn't know, is he Max anymore? Is he MJF forever? The moment stretches and he still hasn't replied, but perhaps that's okay, the person was drunk and left him alone again. 

_ I'm the life of the party  
_ _ Yeah  
_ _ I'm the life of the party _

MJF decides he's had enough. Enough of the questioning, the torment inside his mind. So he does the only thing he can think of to make the thoughts just go away, goes to the bar and orders himself a few shots. He takes them, waiting for the effects to kick in. Finally he's calm, at peace. He can function, abelait barely, but enough to know what he wants. And though he can't have who he really wants, he can find a surrogate. So he walks up to the person closest to the man he loves and pulls him to a corner, drunkenly pressing their lips together.

It's not what he wanted, he can taste the cheap booze, the arms aren't right, the height off, the warmth barely there. But he's drunk enough he can pretend. And that's enough for now, it has to be enough. Because he knows he can't have the real thing, why would someone as perfect as Wardlow want someone as broken as him? So he'll take what he can get, comfort in the wrong arms, lost in a fantasy that can never be real. 

_ Somewhere in between  
_ _ Who I used to be  
_ _ And who I'll be tomorrow  
_ _ When the champagne blows my mind _

The sunshine hits MJF's eyelids and he groans, keeping them firmly shut as he curls closer to the warmth in his bed, wishing he could just fall back asleep. Until it hits him. A warmth, what happened last night? All he remembers is making out with a Wardlow surrogate and then… nothing. Oh no, who did he sleep with last night. At least he feels he still has his underwear on, that's something. But it doesn't answer the question of who it is. 

He'll have to brave it, see who he ended up cuddling while he was blackout drunk. But he can't bring himself to open his eyes. With them still closed, he can pretend he's cuddling the one man he cares about. With them still closed, he's just existing. He doesn't need to be Max, he doesn't need to be MJF, he can just be another person. That's something he hasn't had the luxury of in ages, for all the expensive goods he buys, that's not something that can be bought. 

_ Thrills don't come for free  
_ _ The price you pay for dreams  
_ _ In a sea of strangers  
_ _ I can't find me anymore _

Seconds stretch to minutes as MJF stubbornly refuses to open his eyes, until he decides he has to before it's too long and the other person could wake up. His eyes crack open and he looks, a soft smile across Max's lips as he sees who it is, that he didn't make a huge mistake last night. He doesn't know how he got there, but he knows it can't have been that bad. Because he trusts Wardlow, that the other man only wants what's best for him. 

The big man looks so at peace, so content with himself and everything else going on. Max resists the urge to touch him, afraid to startle him awake and break the peace. Shatter whatever sort of dream he's living in, because there's no way he's actually in bed with Wardlow. He's so jealous of Wardlow, he wants to be like him. Not just physically, though the muscles would be nice, no, he means having such a strong sense of self, have a clear purpose.

Wardlow has such simple wants and needs, he wants to fight, he needs to eat about half a chicken a day to be happy. He wants to win championships, he needs to hone his craft so he's the best he can be. MJF, no wait Max… no MJF, wishes it was that easy. That he wasn't being torn in all directions, no clear path towards whatever he wants and needs, that he could be at peace if only for a moment. Well, this is the closest he's getting to that peace, so he might as well enjoy it while he can. 

He wishes he could find Max, find the hint of the man he was before MJF took over. But even here, even while he's next to the only thing he knows he wants, or is it needs by now, he doesn't know, he can't find the true him. The Max from before everything happened, before MJF overtook everything and pushed away Max. 

__ I can't find me anymore  
_ In a sea of strangers  
_ _ I can't find me anymore _

He feels the large man stirring next to him and fakes being asleep, not sure how to deal with him so early, when his restraint is so low he could do something as foolish as kiss him. All his senses alive to tell what Wardlow is doing, he feels the gentle brush against his cheek, pushing a tiny bit of hair out of his face. The trace of a thumb across his cheek, a gentle press of lips to his forehead. Against his better judgement, MJF smiles. 


End file.
